


work it out

by WeeBeastie



Series: after all verse [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Flint is maybe a little jealous, M/M, Shades of PWP, Silver is a flirt, Slightly Angry Sex, slightly rough sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 10:30:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10762431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie
Summary: can't wait for the bedroom, so we just hit the floor(aka the one where silver flirts with the neighbors)





	work it out

**Author's Note:**

> Another little vignette set in my ‘after all’ verse featuring my old pirate husbands. This one was inspired by a random post I made on Tumblr about Silver flirting with the neighbors, and also inspired by a conversation with Elle that followed about how Flint might respond to Silver’s flirting. Heh. It’s almost a PWP except for a tiny little bit of plot at the very beginning.
> 
> Title and lyrics in the description taken from “Work It Out” by Beyoncé. I know, I know, but it fits! Rated E for some slightly rough, slightly angry (but not like, super angry) sex.

John Silver is an incurable flirt.

Flint knows this, has known for years, and yet it still comes as a bit of a surprise to him when he wanders out on to the front porch to see how Silver is doing with the yard work and instead finds him chatting in his terrible French with Antoinette. Or Charlotte. Or the Laveau sisters (all three of them, in varying combinations). Or, memorably, Claude.

Flint comes out on to the porch one day in the early afternoon, and finds Silver, stripped to the waist, leaning on their fence with his arms casually folded. His tanned skin gleams in the bright sun, and there's a sheen of sweat over his many colorful tattoos. His hair is pulled back and up off his neck, a few stray sweaty curls sticking to either side of his face. He's got his big, flirty smile on, and the object of his attentions stands nervously pinned under the weight of his gaze on the other side of the fence.

Claude, a son of their neighbors across the road, appears to Flint no older than perhaps twenty-two. He's got short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a sweet, beardless face. He also seems to be completely entranced by Silver, if the flush on his downy cheeks and the stammer in his voice is any indication.

“Oh? R-really? And then what happened?” Claude is asking Silver in French, speaking slowly enough that Silver can understand him. Such a thoughtful lad. His eyes aren't on Silver’s face anymore, but traveling down to his bare chest and stomach, taking in all the tattoos and muscles, and then - yes, he's definitely just glanced at Silver’s crotch. Oh, Claude.

“Then cousin say no, no Jean, bad Jean, and me-- good night, Jacques!” Silver calls out to Flint, waving, having noticed him on the porch. 

“Good afternoon, Jean,” Flint corrects him as he comes down the steps into the yard, wondering how a man can try so earnestly to learn a language and still be so bad at it. He turns to Claude, feeling a strange spike of something when he sees how obviously the young man wants Silver. It's written all over his face, and Flint has to clench his teeth to keep from laughing outright at the poor boy. A snort escapes anyway and he has to play it off like he's coughing, to the point that Silver looks at him with visible concern. “We were just going inside. Have a nice day, Claude, give my best to your parents,” Flint manages to rattle off in French, then takes Silver by the arm and practically pulls him into their house.

“Are you alright? Why'd you drag me in here? I was working,” Silver says, in English now that they're indoors. “I still have a lot to do out there.”

“Like flirt with the neighbors’ son? He's less than half your age, John,” Flint says, arousal and irritation and amusement all warring inside him as he looks at Silver. Well, that's typical.

“I was doing no such thing, I was just talking to him,” Silver insists. “You’re always saying I should practice my French, and that's what I was doing,” he says, then pauses and looks away from Flint before continuing. “I can't help it if the lad is slowly discovering he might prefer the company of men. That would've happened with or without my influence.”

“With or without your naked chest right in front of his face, you mean. You're just teasing him, you know, and it's not good. Besides, we're trying to keep a bit of a low profile, here, and your half-naked impropriety isn't helping,” Flint says, resolutely not looking at the aforementioned naked chest himself. He's a grown man. An old man, even. Silver and his ways can't get him that easily.

“That's not what this is about,” Silver says with a shrewd look on his face. He approaches Flint, somehow managing to swagger confidently over to him despite the considerable effort it must take to swagger with only one leg. “Fuck me, you're _jealous_.”

“I am not,” Flint argues, and forces an incredulous laugh at the very idea. “You know my history, John, how the fuck could I be the jealous type after everything I've experienced?” he asks.

“Maybe jealous isn't quite the right word, then. Possessive,” Silver suggests, leaning in close, invading Flint’s personal space with his sharklike smile and intense blue eyes. He clearly knows he's on to something. “You don't like it when someone else finds me as attractive as you do. You don't care so much when it's women; you don't see them as any real threat, even though obviously I can seduce and be seduced by women. But Claude? That sweet-faced, virginal young man? You know he probably pleasures himself at night thinking about me and what I would do to him. You know exactly what I _could_ do to him, were I so motivated. Because I've done it all to you.”

Flint means to say something rational back, to make a cogent point about how Silver being an incorrigible flirt with the neighbors’ son is going to come back to bite him in a way flirting with women probably won't, to lecture him about teasing young men who can't help but be attracted to him (because Flint has been on the other side of that equation and it-- is not fun). But instead he grabs Silver by the shoulders and muscles him into the formal dining room they never use, feeling himself get suddenly and inexplicably hard. Fortunately, the heavy drapes in the dining room are all drawn already, so no one outside will see what Flint is about to do. He goes to the floor and pulls Silver down with him, taking some care that neither of them lands too hard.

“The fuck?” Silver asks, panting, his eyes half-shut already. He's ended up on his back with Flint straddling his thighs, Flint’s fingers still digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

Again, Flint means to say something coherent, maybe apologize for how suddenly his furious lust has overtaken him and help Silver up so they can go somewhere more appropriate, like a couch or their bed. But what comes out of his mouth is, “You’re _mine_.”

Silver’s eyes glitter and he opens his mouth to say something - probably something insufferably smug, if Flint knows him at all. Before he can, Flint puts his fingers in Silver’s mouth, making him suck on them while Flint uses his other hand to get Silver’s trousers open.

Once he's yanked Silver’s trousers open (and felt another incredible surge of lust when he realizes Silver has foregone his underclothes today), Flint takes him in hand and starts stroking him. Silver was already half-hard, and Flint brings him to full hardness in moments.

Flint leans in and bites down on the soft skin behind Silver’s ear, sucking hard enough that he knows he'll leave a mark. He kisses his way down along his jaw and then gives Silver’s throat the same treatment, biting viciously on his adam’s apple and making Silver moan around his fingers. He can't seem to stop himself, biting and sucking down Silver’s chest and leaving purpling marks in his wake, even biting hard on one nipple and sucking on it with such force that Silver thrashes beneath him and pulls his head back so Flint’s fingers slip free of his wet, inviting mouth.

“Fuck, James, that hurts,” he groans, even as his cock leaks pre-come on Flint’s other hand. “What are you doing to me?” he asks breathlessly, amazed.

Flint doesn't reply, just shifts off Silver’s thighs and lets go of his cock to get Silver’s trousers off, then hurriedly divests himself of his own clothing. Once they're both naked on the cool wooden floor of the dining room, he kneels between Silver’s thighs and picks up the biting and sucking where he left off, intent on leaving a trail of mouth-shaped bruises all the way down his torso. Flint bites down on the small crescent moon Silver has tattooed around his navel, sinking his teeth deep into it so as to leave a clear, visible imprint of what is unmistakably _his_ mouth.

“Shit,” Silver gasps, his chest heaving and his stomach twitching under Flint’s mouth. “Do it, come on,” he says challengingly, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

Flint sits up and pushes two of his spit-slicked fingers into Silver without hesitation, taking Silver’s cock in his free hand and stroking him again, needing to see him worked up. He prepares Silver with perhaps a little less finesse than usual, focused on getting in him and fucking him. Once he's sure Silver is ready enough, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, pushing into him with one swift thrust.

Silver makes a strangled noise and reaches over his head to grab at a leg of the nearby dining table, bracing himself on it and pushing back against Flint. He's got his eyes open again and is staring Flint down fiercely, urging him on.

Flint, snarling, accepts the challenge and hitches Silver’s one leg up around his waist, bracing his other hand on the floor and starting to fuck Silver hard enough that he'll feel it for days.

“Just have to let everyone admire you, don't you,” Flint growls, practically feeling his teeth rattle in his skull with the force of his thrusts. He would stop if he thought he was really hurting Silver, but he knows him well enough to be able to tell he's enjoying the rough fucking as much as Flint is himself.

Silver uses his grip on the table leg to screw his body down against Flint’s, pushing back against him with all his strength. “You know you like it,” he says, crying out as Flint hits that spot inside of him repeatedly with his punishing thrusts. “Oh, _oh_ , James!”

“That’s it,” Flint groans when Silver calls his name. “Fuck, John, you're so- I can't-” he says as he fucks him, looking down into his eyes and baring his teeth at him for lack of words to explain himself.

Silver seems to understand anyway and leans up to kiss Flint, suddenly biting his lower lip hard enough that he draws blood. Flint reels back in shock and pain, tasting copper and salt in his mouth, then redoubles his efforts to fuck Silver through the floor.

He grips Silver’s leg in one hand and keeps the other hand braced on the floor, working out all his frustrations by thrusting into Silver’s willing body, fucking him like both their lives depend on it. He hadn't realized seeing Silver flirting with another man would provoke him so, but if this is the end result, he might just have to encourage that behavior.

Silver grins up at him, gold tooth gleaming, Flint’s blood shining wetly on his lips. “Come on, James, fuck me. Harder, darling, hard as you can, that's it,” he says, breathless, writhing underneath Flint and meeting him thrust for thrust. His cock is achingly hard and leaking on to his belly but he doesn't even seem to notice, too caught up in staring Flint down and daring him to go harder, faster.

“Oh god, oh _fuck_ ,” Flint pants, meeting Silver’s gaze as he thrusts deep in him. He stills and comes, a cry like a roar emanating from the depths of his chest. Silver grabs his own cock in one hand and comes immediately after Flint, making a keening noise as his orgasm is wrenched almost painfully out of him, his hips stuttering.

Flint pulls out and lets himself collapse on to the unforgiving wooden floor next to Silver, catching his breath and feeling only a little like he might die from exertion. His knees ache from kneeling on the hard floor, and his lip is throbbing where Silver bit him. The room is suddenly unbearable and stifling, and he feels like he needs to stick his head in a bucket of cold water. It's the best he's felt in several days.

“That worked out even better than I'd hoped,” Silver says hoarsely after a long moment, touching his own chest and gently prodding the nipple that Flint bit so hard, hissing in pain.

“You _planned_ this?” Flint asks, turning his head to look incredulously at Silver. “Why am I not surprised?” he mutters.

“I planned to flirt with Claude in front of you and see if I got your blood up doing that. I didn't necessarily plan on being so thoroughly fucked, especially not on the dining room floor because you couldn't even wait to get me to bed. That was a welcome surprise,” he says, then licks his lips and grins over at Flint.

“We are a bit past the age where most people consider it a good idea to fuck on the floor, but sometimes the mood strikes,” Flint says, grinning back. “I can see only one flaw in your plan.”

“Which is?” Silver asks, stretching his one leg out with a groan of contentment.

“You won't be able to take your shirt off outside until those fade,” Flint says, gesturing to the livid purple marks he's left all over Silver’s torso. “And you might want to keep your hair down...and perhaps invent a good story for the one you won't be able to cover,” he says, eyeing the bruise he's left on Silver’s adam’s apple. “I really went after you, didn't I.”

“To be fair I didn't expect you'd do that, either,” Silver says, sitting up with effort and wincing just a little. “You surprised me with how very possessive you are of me. I rather enjoy it, wearing your colors,” he rumbles, leaning down to give Flint a sweet, gentle kiss.

Flint gets to his feet and helps Silver up, grabbing his crutch from where it's fallen nearby and helping him steady himself with it. “I didn't hurt you too much, did I?” he asks as they make their way together to the staircase and up to the bathroom to clean up.

“No no, of course not,” Silver assures him. “You know me, I've such a low tolerance for pain. You'd know if I was hurting,” he says, then leans over to briefly close his teeth around Flint’s earlobe.

Flint regards Silver as they stand together at the stop of the stairs, still feeling somewhat unconvinced. He reaches out and smooths his thumb over the scar in Silver’s left eyebrow, thinking.

“I’m fine,” Silver insists, leaning into Flint’s touch. “If I wasn't enjoying myself I wouldn't have been saying ‘harder, do it, come on.’ I know my body, James, I know what it's been through, what it can take, its whys and hows. Trust me. If you ever really hurt me, you'll know.”

Flint feels decently mollified at that and puts his arm around Silver’s waist, walking with him to the bathroom.

 

The next day, Claude just so happens to come by again on his way into town, and Silver just so happens to be working in the front yard again, this time wearing a white shirt that's plastered to his chest and back from all the sweaty work he's been doing. His hair is down around his shoulders and it, too, looks wet with sweat.

Flint watches them from the porch and notes with satisfaction that Claude can't seem to keep his wide eyes off the lurid red-purple bruise on Silver’s throat. When Silver raises the hem of his shirt to wipe his sweaty face on it, inadvertently exposing all the marks on his stomach and chest, Claude’s eyes go even wider than before.

Flint ambles casually over to greet Claude, but when the boy sees him coming, he bids them both good day and retreats so hastily he almost forgets where he was going and has to turn around and backtrack.

Flint smiles a little to himself, feeling a certain amount of smug satisfaction, and tells Silver to meet him inside once he's through working. He returns inside to wait for Silver, thinking about how good he looks with Flint’s colors all over him.


End file.
